


Interview with a Cannibal or Appointment with a Vampire

by DevilsHerb



Category: Hannibal (TV), Vampire Chronicles - Anne Rice
Genre: Explicit Sexual Content, M/M, Some Humor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-09
Updated: 2014-09-09
Packaged: 2018-02-16 13:26:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 11
Words: 17,577
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2271408
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DevilsHerb/pseuds/DevilsHerb
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What would happen if Lestat and Louis paid Hannibal and Will a visit?<br/>This all starts after Will gets all BAMF after Randall Tier and before Mason abducts Hannibal.<br/>Updated Chapters 1 and 2.<br/>Vampire fans may be a little lost if Hannibal is not part of their diet.<br/> </p>
<p>“What have you done with Will?”<br/>“Nothing.  Not yet.  Mr. Graham had some car trouble that’s all.” Lestat plays with the buttons on his lacey shirt.  The buttons clink against his long nails. Hannibal tightens his jaw at the sound.<br/>“If you harmed one hair on his head…” Hannibal starts to say.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. 1

**Author's Note:**

> This was written for my sister who also wants a Harry Potter crossover but that is never going to happen. She can write her own. I loved the Vampire Chronicles and it just seemed a perfect fit with Hannibal and Will. Written over the weekend so here goes. Updated chapters one and two based on some helpful comments. (thanks BoredorBoard) The initial exchange between Hannibal and Lestat is less cheeky and more ominous. Still humorous as it was originally intended. Also noted, the Vampire Chronicles fandom is more tame, sexually speaking so a warning this is not nice and flowery.

Interview with a Cannibal or Appointment with a Vampire

What would happen if Lestat and Louis paid Hannibal and Will a visit?

_This all starts after Will gets all BAMF after Randall Tier and before Mason abducts Hannibal._

_Lestat de Lioncourt Auvergne, France B 1760   T 1781 21 years old_

_Louis de Pointe du Lac b 1766  T 1791 25 years old_

_Lestat: "Pain is terrible for you. You feel it like no other creature because you are a vampire. You don't want it to go on, do you?" Louis: "No." Lestat: "Then do what it is in your nature to do. God kills indiscriminately and so shall we, for no creatures under God are as we are, none so like Him, as ourselves. I have a gift for you."_

**Hannibal** sits at his desk looking in his appointment book.  On Wednesdays he takes later appointments, so tonight Will has his standing seven o’clock appointment. Will is always his last appointment so that Hannibal is not limited by time. 

It wouldn’t be fair to Will to rush things, or have him feel pressured because there might be another patient after him. Will might be tempted to concede his time and that simply would not do.  That wouldn’t be fair to Hannibal. Wednesday is Hannibal’s favorite night of the week.

Although Will’s standing appointment remains, the structure of the therapy has, um, shifted somewhat and Hannibal remains flexible with regard to Will.  Very Flexible.

In fact Hannibal has been beyond flexible and Will seems unappreciative of late.  Hannibal doesn’t expect Will to worship at his feet, but Hannibal is feeling taken for granted.  He supposes that is what happens when one is so brilliant and clever that everything just looks easy.

“You make it look easy.” Will had said just the other night. “You make everybody else seem incompetent somehow.”

“I merely point out the facts, Will.” Hannibal had said as he had folded the dish towels, neatly in perfect creases so the floral pattern showed in the middle.

“Well, sometimes it’s ok to say nothing, Hannibal.”

“I often do” Hannibal had said. Will had given him a tired look.

 Hannibal had sniffed, “Well, I do…say nothing….all the time…” Hannibal had thrown Will an exasperated look, “I often leave many things unsaid, Will. I am not constrained by the limitations others place upon themselves…”

“This is you, saying nothing?” Will had asked, pale blue eyes all droopy and sweet.

 Hannibal had sighed.

Will had walked over to the fridge and cracked open a beer. Hannibal knew how Will got when he’d had a few beers…soon he would be sneaking out to his car for some more of that nasty weed from Zeller. At least Will kept it in his car.

Will had barely taken a swig of the homemade amber colored beer before Hannibal had jumped down his throat for it.

“Will! Those are for Alana.”

Hannibal had remembered he had invited her to join him for dinner in a couple days. Will had given him a truly petulant look at that remark and then slammed the fridge shut.  Hannibal had found himself alone in the kitchen staring at the bottle of beer on the counter.

He often forgets Alana is still a sore spot for Will. Perhaps Hannibal will invite Will to join them.  All week, Will has been more tense and edgy than usual. Perhaps Jack was getting to him. Will’s monument to Tier had no doubt caused some friction between them.

Too much sex? Too little? It was hard to tell with Will.

Hannibal peers into his appointment book.  He cannot read his own handwriting.  He realizes this is not his handwriting at all. He thinks maybe he is not reading the name right.  His handwriting has been glossed over with white-out and Will’s name has been replaced with another name, written in some truly ornate and preposterously fancy writing. Hannibal holds the book closer to his face.

_Lestat de Lioncourt_ the name reads.   How did that name get in there Hannibal wonders.  He thinks maybe Will wrote it in as a joke. Hannibal thinks that would be nice if Will played a joke…

Hannibal hears a knock at his door. He looks at the time. It is 6:56, He ignores it. The knocking becomes more insistent.  Hannibal is in to operant conditioning so he ignores the knocking and refuses to answer the door before seven.  People should be punctual.  Not EARLY, just punctual.

This couldn’t be Will. Will knows better. Will is always punctual, perfectly punctual. He knows how Hannibal likes to open his door right at seven to find Will standing there. Perhaps the person knocking is not Will.  Hannibal feels relieved suddenly. He would really have to question his own therapy if Will regressed…

Hannibal thinks that knocking is really rude.  That better not be Will. He starts toward the door.

Hannibal hears a swoosh and suddenly there is a blonde haired man sitting in Will’s chair. His hands rest on the arms like claws and he hunches over like he is going to be sick. NOT ON MY RUG Hannibal thinks.

“Where did you come from?” Hannibal says to the blonde man who seems to be able to turn lights off too.  Hannibal’s office has become even more dark than usual.

“And, how did you get in here?” Hannibal says before the blonde can answer his first question.

“I have an appointment.” says the blonde, brushing his honey locks off his face…and ignoring Hannibal’s inquiries.  He leers at Hannibal.  He feels the need to assert his superiority around this odd and puzzling mortal. This mortal who is so unlike any other he has ever met.

Hannibal merely stares back at him. He observes the weird wardrobe, the long hair, but mostly, Hannibal recognizes an alpha male when he sees one.  Whatever else this young man is, he definitely has authority issues and a plethora of other as yet undiagnosed neuroses…

The blonde little alpha is staring at Hannibal, making eyes at him as it were. What a strange creature this is.

“Did you forget your glasses?” says Hannibal. He thinks this young man is rather gaunt, quite unappetizing. Probably a drug addict. Or a former drug addict. Either way…

“What? No…I do not wear glasses. I have perfect vision.” His voice is neither deep nor high, but it is a little whiney. Hannibal thinks he can’t be more than twenty years old. And he is acting kind of spoiled too. Hannibal watches him look around his office and wonders how he can see in the near total darkness. His curiosity deepens.

“Then stop squinting inside, bad for your eyes.” Hannibal says. He thinks that with clothes like this, he should much more polite. Then again, he did break in. Somehow…and left no evidence. Intriguing.

“I wasn’t squinting.” insists his blonde patient, almost pouting.

Hannibal takes out his note pad. He unbuttons his suit jacket and sits in his chair facing this Mr. Lioncourt. “You do not have an appointment. Why did you take someone else’s appointment, Mister…” Hannibal pauses to see what he will do.

“Can’t you read? My name is Lestat de Lioncourt…”

Hannibal thinks he is very high strung and what kind of made up name is that? There is a trace of a French accent.  “Yes, I saw that in my appointment book. And yet I did not write it there. Curious.”

The vampire rolls his eyes. He wonders if all psychiatrists are this insufferable.  Or just this one in particular. Just his luck to find the most obnoxious shrink in Baltimore.

“I wrote it in there only this afternoon.” Says Lestat.  “Would you like to know how I did it? Don’t you want to know how I got in here?” He is so proud of himself.

“With a pen I should think.“ Hannibal says, not sure if he approves of this Lestat’s obvious penchant for fangs and gaudy jewelry. He does not intend to give this person the upper hand. He has been warned of his rudeness and seems capable of carrying on civilized conversation.

“I did not approve of this change in schedule. This is my practice and I see whom I please, Monsieur.”

“What?” Lestat is becoming confused. This is not going the way Lestat thought it would. It’s like this doctor doesn’t speak English or something, his comments are barely tangential to Lestat’s own.

“I am a vampire.  A very powerful vampire.”

“Well, at least you are convinced. It remains to be seen if you can convince me. You are very clever to get into my office, and I could call the authorities, but I see no harm has been done.” Hannibal smiles reassuringly at him.

Lestat knows this doctor does not want the police involved for a multitude of reasons, all of them hanging in his basement freezer. He gazes at Hannibal with a blank expression.

“But… we are not going to be engaging in any therapy this evening.” Hannibal fixes his gaze on the sulking blonde in his tight little pants.

Hannibal figures Will must be running late. He waits for the blonde man to respond, or to indicate in some way that he understands that his little ruse is not going to fly; but he does not. When Lestat stubbornly begins to pluck at his buttons, again, Hannibal continues.

“I said it was curious that I found an entry that I did not write, but beyond that I cannot allow you take up any more of my time this evening. I have another patient scheduled. You…are in his seat.  I must ask you to leave.”

Lestat offers a toothy grin and shakes head at Hannibal. He isn’t going anywhere.  Hannibal just doesn’t realize that yet.

Hannibal adjusts his tie and leans back in his chair.  Wait…Did he really just bare his teeth and were those…fangs? Hannibal thinks they could not possibly be real fangs. He must have had some cosmetic dentistry.

Lestat cracks his brittle knuckles as he considers the psychiatrist in front of him.  If Lestat wasn’t so desperate for help he would slash this pompous yet savagely handsome doctor across his throat and watch him bleed out all over this expensive carpet. And that suit!  Lestat wants to ask where he shops. Who is his tailor?

Hannibal does admire Lestat’s outfit. It’s kind of retro, like two hundred years retro. The outfit appears to be genuine if not a very expensive recreation. Lace and cufflinks together are hard to pull off. Hannibal knows. Fashion maven or not, he has to go.

“Monsiuer?” Hannibal says, “I can schedule an appointment with you during usual office hours, or you can wait for another evening appointment next week. Which do you prefer?” Hannibal holds his pen ready to write in an appointment for him.

Lestat decides Dr. Lecter requires a little convincing to be more cooperative. “I think I will have my therapy tonight. You know why? I can smell what you prepared for dinner this evening Dr. Lecter.”

Hannibal raises a brow, and decides he does not like the expression this strange young man is wearing at all. Every one of Hannibal’s mental alarms go off in his head as he gazes at Lestat. “Really?” he says mildly.

“You like organ meats, don’t you?  Is that because they are more difficult to detect, or you just prefer the flavor?”

Hannibal narrows his eyes at Lestat. “I am partial to a variety of cuisine that utilizes the more esoteric and sensual parts of the animal, yes.” Hannibal says, waiting to hear Lestat’s response.

“I think a dinner party at your house would be very interesting.”

“Perhaps you will receive an invitation someday.” Hannibal smiles.

“As guest or entrée?” Lestat smiles back. “I am a vampire, Dr. Lecter, and I don’t care if you eat people. I drink their blood. We are both killers are we not?”

Hannibal says nothing. He needs more information.  This little blonde may turn out to be more dangerous than disturbed, as Hannibal had initially thought. He was completely unafraid to accuse Hannibal and went further by claiming they were alike.  

It is not like Will to miss appointments, not without calling, and it is not a coincidence that it was Will’s appointment that was stolen, last appointment of the evening or not.  If this young man knows about Hannibal’s habits, then he knows about Will. Perhaps this De Lioncourt is what he says he is, or least believes it so.  At any rate, Hannibal doesn’t put it past him to have interfered with Will.

“If I may ask,” Hannibal says, having a thought pop in his head like a light bulb, “Monsieur De Lioncourt, Did you see anyone outside?”

“Uh, no…why?” says Lestat. He is amazed the doctor hasn’t figured out that Lestat knows exactly where his patient is. But, of course he must, and he is playing with Lestat. Lestat is pleased.  He finally has what he wants. He has Lecter’s full attention.

“Well, as I said, you took someone else’s appointment. Are you are sure you didn’t see anyone outside? Had it occurred to you to use a phone and call for an appointment? I mean, why break into my office?”

Lestat sits blinking his vampire eyes at Lecter. Lestat cannot believe he is not more animated, upset, or something.  Lestat cannot even hear his heartbeat his pulse is so slow and calm. Lestat knows he is actually _very_ concerned about his patient and this business about the manners is secondary. Unfortunately, educated people often did not believe in vampires. Lestat sighs.

“Look, Dr. Lecter, I checked you out.  You are an expensive psychiatrist so you must be good. I needed an appointment right away and you were all booked up, so I improvised. Did you hear me say I was a vampire?”

“Yes, I’m Lithuanian, not deaf.”

“Does it make you more comfortable to be so flippant?” Lestat shifts in the chair so he dangles his legs over the side of one arm. He yawns at Hannibal.

“Does it make you more comfortable to be rude?” He waits but Lestat does not respond. “Perhaps you are a vampire, but more likely you only believe you are one. Delusions are a symptom of something else.  Is that why you are here? You believe you are a vampire…”

Lestat stamps his foot on the floor and slams his fist into the chair repeatedly. Hannibal looks mildly at the damage Lestat is inflicting on his leather and teak chair.  Mason has banged on it enough already last week. He’ll pay for that in blood. And it is still Will’s chair.  It smells like him and Hannibal likes that smell…

“No need to be rude, Monsieur De Lioncourt. This is the second time I have had to caution you about your behavior.  You would be so kind as to cease attacking my furniture?”

“Your patient is not here. I AM. SO YOU WILL TALK TO ME.” Lestat says in his creepy and seductive vampire voice. He thinks Dr. Lecter will succumb to his vampire spell.

Hannibal speaks his voice really tight now. “Monsieur De Lioncourt, I have asked you twice now to stop being rude. I never ask thrice.”

“Thrice?  Who says thrice?” says Lestat, the brat prince of darkness.

Hannibal draws a deep breath. “You are testing me Monsieur De Lioncourt. What is to be done about that?”

Lestat opens his hands wide.  A gesture of frustration. “And you are stressing me out, Doctor Lecter. Do you really want to antagonize a stressed out vampire? What is to be done about _that_?”

Hannibal clears his throat, knows he has to find out what this vampire person is up to, but is at a loss as to how to accomplish that at the moment. “If you want this appointment, you will have to be honest with me.” Hannibal says finally.

Lestat bares his teeth at Hannibal, his fangs white and long and sharp. He moves into the light of the lamp so Hannibal can see how pale he is. He is a preternatural creature of the night.  Isn’t he impressed at all?

“How much honesty can you handle, Dr. Lecter?”

Hannibal takes in the fangs, and the uncommonly blue white skin. Perhaps this Lioncourt fellow is a vampire, but he is more likely suffering from something biological. Hannibal hopes it is not contagious.

“Monsieur De Lioncourt. We can have a civilized discourse, can we not?”

Lestat shakes his mane of yellow curls, his hair falling around his shoulders like a Louis XIV wig and he places his head in his hand, cupping his ear as he stares into Hannibal’s increasingly perturbed eyes.

“Please, call me Lestat.” He demurs lips full and blood red as he speaks.

“If you insist.” Hannibal says. He waits so see what Lestat will do next. Hannibal does not want to provoke him and it is obvious he is not going to leave until he gets what he wants. He apparently needed to get Will out of the way so he could monopolize Hannibal’s time.

Lestat’s eyes go very dark.  He closes his eyes and tries to read this infuriating doctor’s thoughts but he can’t.  His dark gift fails to click on whatever it supposed to do. Lestat is getting irritated. He would really like to know what cannibals think about. Besides dinner. Especially this one.

Lestat is sure that Dr. Lecter does not believe he is truly a vampire and could drop him like a sack of potatoes in seconds.  What would a cannibal’s blood taste like Lestat wonders. Lestat has been watching Dr. Lecter and his precious protégé for a month.  There is nothing either of them has done that Lestat does not know about. Lestat knows what they do apart and what they do together. Everything.

Evil doers are easier, and they taste better. Do this cannibal and his companion concur?

Should I? Lestat muses as he stares at Hannibal sitting in his chair, his legs crossed and his little notepad open on the side table, but as yet still empty of scribbles.

Wouldn’t that aggravate this arrogant cannibal psychiatrist?  I mean to be a cannibal and not be able to eat humans anymore, just drink their blood?  This one obviously likes to cook. Lestat can smell the subtle aromas of the marinade Hannibal concocted and poured over some poor soul’s kidneys and liver just before he drove his Bentley over here.

Lestat figures Dr. Lecter is looking forward to a romantic dinner with that gorgeous young what’s his name Lestat left stranded in some place called Wolf Trap after pulling the brake hoses loose in his Volvo. Lestat had watched him pound his fists on the hood in frustration, clenching the broken cables in his hands, rain seeping into his herring bone coat.

Lestat had left him like ten miles from his house the road empty. He must be soaked, cold, and fuming mad by now…

Lestat wants to see if this doctor will flinch.

Lestat stands up and walks over to Hannibal so he is staring down at him. He moves in close to Hannibal’s neck as if to bite him. Hannibal looks sideways at Lestat. “I wouldn’t do that if I were you.”

“And why not?” says Lestat, amused and somewhat impressed at the doctor’s unflappable demeanor. He leans in closer.

Hannibal breathes him in and his blood turns cold. _Impossible_ he thinks. He keeps his voice calm as he speaks to Lestat.

“Because who would you go to for therapy, if not me? Are there any vampire psychiatrists?” long silence from Lestat. “I thought not. So…shall we resume?”

Hannibal gestures to the chair indicating Lestat should sit himself down and behave himself for the next hour.  He is being blackmailed into this therapy session and probably more. Hannibal knows Lestat will use Will as a bargaining chip.  It is quite clear Lestat knows a lot about them already.

The faintest grimace colors Hannibal’s face as he steels himself against the desire to flay his annoying blonde patient where he sits.

Lestat doesn’t need his dark gift to figure out why Hannibal’s lips twitch ever so slightly and the flush of his cheeks increased a tiny degree.

“You believe me now, don’t you, Doctor Lecter? And you will do as I ask because you were expecting a pretty little thing with curly dark locks and big blue eyes weren’t you?”  Lestat says, his voice all soft and cooing suddenly. He ignores Hannibal’s narrow eyes and admits they are kind of scary, for a mortal.

Hannibal is relieved they don’t have to beat around the bush anymore. He prefers it this way.

“What have you done with Will?”

“Nothing.  Not yet.  Mr. Graham had some car trouble that’s all.” Lestat plays with the buttons on his lacey shirt.  The buttons clink against his long nails. Hannibal tightens his jaw at the sound.

“If you harmed one hair on his head…” Hannibal starts to say.

“You’ll what? Kill me? Eat me? Good luck…” says Lestat looking smug.

Hannibal fumes silently. He needs to be careful until he knows what this disturbed and disturbing creature has done with Will. Hannibal no longer doubts he is indeed sitting across from a real vampire. He also acknowledges since Lestat is already dead he won’t even taste very good…


	2. Chapter 2

Part 2

“What exactly did you come here for?” Hannibal says.

He needs time to think.  For the moment, this awful vampire person has the upper hand.  This is becoming more problematic with every second. Hannibal has become aware of various scents wafting from his clothes, his boots, his breath. And Hannibal recognizes decomposing blood when he smells it.

This young man has drunk blood with his fangs. Hannibal got a really good whiff when Lestat leaned in close and there is no mistaking the human detritus that envelops Lestat like perfume.

“Good of you to ask, doctor. I have this companion, Louis. And he is probably what you would call clinically depressed. Has been ever since I made him, gave him the dark gift. Actually he was pretty fucked up before that…”

Hannibal rolls his eyes.  _He talks like Will does when he is upset._ And some gift he thinks. “Is this going to take long?”

“Anyway,” Lestat continues despite Hannibal’s lack of enthusiasm, “Louis is really a downer and I can’t live with him like this, but I can’t live without him either. And I’ve tried.”

“What do you mean tried? You moved out? You’ve separated before?”

“No…we tried to kill each other, but it’s hard to kill a vampire.”

Hannibal sits up straight. This is getting interesting. “Please, continue…”

“The first time he tried to kill me he left me in a swamp with crocodiles.”

“Oh? How did that make you feel?”

Lestat growls at Hannibal.  Hannibal swallows, blinks, and then says, “But you survived?” Hannibal is finding this fascinating. His chosen companion tried to kill him. How quaint.  Hannibal is thinking that Lestat probably deserved to float among the crocodiles. Hannibal can imagine dumping him in the Chesapeake right now except there’s no crocodiles.

He wonders what Lestat did to Louis to make him so angry, vengeful, and lethal. Hannibal thinks he might like to avoid whatever it was…

He thinks of Will stuck in Wolf Trap, soaking wet from the rain that continues to pour down outside his window. He shifts a little in his chair. “Tell me…”

“I survived the swamp and went back, to kill him and Claudia.” Lestat pauses as if the memory is too much.

“Who is Claudia?”

”Our daughter”

“She was a vampire too?”

“Yeah, I made her one. To keep Louis because I was afraid he would leave me.  Actually, it was Claudia who tried to kill me the first time, but Louis didn’t stop her. He helped her after she poisoned me with dead blood.”

“Really.” Hannibal says, his face betraying nothing. He considers Abigail, listening to music and doing the homework he gave her downstairs back at his house, locked securely in her room in the far side of his basement. Very securely. He does not want another repeat of Beverly Katz.  Nothing is going to spoil Will’s surprise.

“And it was great for a while.” Lestat is saying, waving his lace covered wrist in the air like some dark fairy on acid. “We were a happy little family in New Orleans, doing our vampire thing, feeding, dancing, going to shows, shopping for really exquisite clothes, making music…even offered piano lessons for some of the most prestigious families in New Orleans…feeding on them, why Claudia would wipe out an entire family in one night…  She was a better hunter than Louis.  No guilt.  In fact, I remember one time…”

Hannibal clasps his hands together, resists the urge to throw something at Lestat. “But something went wrong…”

“An astute observation. He burned down our house in the French Quarter and he left me for dead again and took off to Paris…with our daughter.”  

“So each of you has tried to kill the other?” Hannibal muses on this.

“Yes. And then I tried to kill him again when I found him in Paris.  I turned a bunch of theater vampires against him. But Armand saved him that time. And they killed Claudia. Louis took that hard. Then I went underground for a while and he sort of forgave me I guess and found me back in New Orleans. I got myself together and then we found each other again and it’s been mostly on since then.  We have the occasional vacation from each other, but we can’t seem to stay apart.”

“Sounds like you have had many adventures together. A battle tested friendship…” Hannibal looks to his desk where that really sexy picture of Achilles and Patroclus is. Where all the sexy pictures are. The ones Will won’t look at.

“And you need to talk to a therapist, why?” asks Hannibal.

“He is driving me crazy. It’s been over two hundred years. I have run out of ways to cope with his morbidity, his insistence on clinging to his mortality, his humanity, a thing he cannot have anymore.  He is not mortal anymore, but he is the most human of all our kind and that is why I love him so…” Lestat breaks into tears.

Hannibal eyes the box of tissues next to his chair. Lestat continues to wail like a child. Hannibal sees that his tears are blood and the blood is beginning to drip all over the chair.  Will’s chair. With all the expensive leather.

“Please,” says Hannibal, “have a Kleenex. In fact, here, have the entire box.”

Lestat takes the box of tissues and begin to dab at his eyes. The tissues are getting all sticky with blood because of course of all creatures vampires feel emotions more deeply than any other.

Hannibal considers the blubbering vampire in the chair across from him. All that emotion just falling all over the place. His thoughts turn to Will. If Will gets anywhere near this crazy love sick vampire, Will is going to lose his empathic mind.

Hannibal needs to get rid of this Lestat or help him. Hannibal is not sure he can help. Two hundred years is a long time to carry around all this baggage.  Hannibal considers the methods open to him at this juncture.  There is no quick fix, but if this vampire can’t leave with some measure of comfort or at the very least, some solid advice, Hannibal may not ever see his little mongoose again.

“Well,” Hannibal begins as he watches Lestat wipe at his eyes smearing blood all over his face.  Hannibal sucks in a breath and exhales slowly.  “Let’s get you cleaned up, shall we?”

Hannibal gets up and walks to the dainty little bathroom adjacent to his office. He returns with a damp towel from the vanity.

Lestat takes it from him, hands trembling with the futility of it all. He wipes the damp towel over his face. Hannibal observes the skin doesn’t move at all. Lestat seems to be wiping marble, the towel slides so easily it is more like polishing rather than wiping.

Maybe the problem is the other one Hannibal muses.  “Tell me Lestat, what does Louis want? Tell me about him.”

“Um…” Lestat sniffs and wipes his nose, a habit really, he doesn’t have any snot. “Louis sometimes wants to die.  He hated feeding on humans, resisted for the longest time.”

“He resisted his true nature.” Hannibal says, totally understanding.

“He resorted to eating rats and other creatures. Ate all the doves in an aviary once.”

“How tasteless.”  Hannibal doesn’t like fowl all that much. It all tastes like chicken to him.

Lestat frowns. “I think it wasteful to feed on such beautiful creatures too.”

Hannibal smiles, “go on…”

“This obsession with death is not surprising I suppose. I mean, as vampires, we have power over life and death.  We kill with impunity.”

“Yes!” says Hannibal a little too eagerly. “And, does Louis find the killing evil?”

“He does! He could never reconcile it even though the thrill of killing and the rapturous heat the blood sends coursing through his veins when he feeds nearly causes him to faint with pleasure.”

“Fascinating” Hannibal says. He is really starting to like this Lestat.  They seem to have a lot in common.

“How do you feel about good and evil? You do not share Louis’ perspective?”

“Evil is a point of view. God kills indiscriminately and so shall we. For no creatures under God are as we are, none so like him as ourselves.”

 _Beautiful_ thinks Hannibal. “Louis is clearly in denial. Two hundred years is a long time to cling to the delusion of mortality. In life, humans are motivated by death. But in death, it is hard to imagine a motivation to continue. You have all of eternity…”

“The prospect of enduring eternity frightens Louis.  Some vampires do become despondent and end themselves. My maker did, but two hundred years is not that long. There are vampires who have lived for hundreds of years, millennia even.”

“Has Louis tried to end his own life?”

“Oh yes.”

“How does a vampire kill himself if he is immortal?”

“Fall asleep on the beach. Try to fly up to the sun. Just going out in daylight will kill young vampires, unless you have the blood of an old vampire in you…like me. I have been drunk on the blood of Akasha…” Lestat licks his lips and stares at the ceiling.

“O-kay then…When you made Louis, you were young?”

“Like a colt. Louis is not as strong as I.  He did drink some vintage blood later on…let me see, was that after Memnoch or the body thief?” Lestat gets lost in his thoughts.

Hannibal wonders if he can keep Lestat talking until sun up. He needs to know where Will is.

“Oh, the agony of it!” screams Lestat dramatically. And suddenly.

“He welcomed my dark gift! Willingly said goodbye to the sun…forever…to be with me. ME! And now…now he wanders the streets and slums of Baltimore, wearing this AWFUL sweater I can’t stand. He knows I absolutely HATE it and he wears it every fucking night…”

Lestat sits up straight and grows very still. “I can sense you, Louis! Where are you?”

Hannibal feels goose bumps creep up his neck. He hasn’t felt goose bumps since he was a kid and didn’t know why his skin crawled with a cold so intense his hairs stood up straight all along his arms.  What an odd sensation.

Lestat is becoming unhinged, long buried emotions bubbling up to the surface and nowhere to go but out of his mouth.

“I can smell the stench of that FUCKING sweater, Louis. I swear I’ll rip it off your body this very night!”

“Perhaps you should engage in couples therapy.” Hannibal says helpfully. “I can recommend someone very good…”

“SHUT UP!” Lestat says, holding his head in his hands.

Hannibal decides he needs a drink. He gets up and walks to the cabinet, keeping an eye on the sobbing vampire. He goes for the bottle of Chateau something or other, but his hands grab the Hennessy instead. He pours a huge tumbler and quaffs down half of it in one gulp. He wipes his thin lips and takes a few breaths to calm himself.

He’s got to do something.  Even if he survives tonight, and this Lestat leaves for a crypt someplace, he is liable to come back tomorrow night. And where is Will? Hannibal begins to think disturbing thoughts, like Will is hurt someplace, and this crazy vampire knows where he is…

“Damn it, Louis! Why do you torment me like this?” Lestat rends his shirt. Hannibal doesn’t know how much more of this vampire drama he can take.

“Come out Louis! Come out of the shadows or I will feed on this doctor until there is not a drop of blood left in him!”

“What?” says Hannibal, “Wait a minute.” Hannibal is not so sure such a gesture would convince Louis to come out. He is certain he does not want to find out.

“Louis?” Hannibal says to the darkness, “perhaps you would like to join us. I would like to hear your side of things. I am quite fond of my blood and would very much like to keep it.”

At this moment, the door to Hannibal’s office flies open and a very wet and angry Will Graham stands in the doorway. He glares at Hannibal and then at Lestat, who is dumbfounded that the dude he last saw clenching his fists in the middle of nowhere now stands in front of him.

“Who is that?” Will says, wiping wet curls from his face.

“He says his name is…” Hannibal starts to say. He is SO happy Will is ok.

“Lestat. My name is Lestat. I do not think we have met properly.”

“NO…Who is that?” Will says again, pointing to the curtains.

Everyone looks past Will’s finger to the windows and the rippling curtains. Out steps the beautiful and solemn Louis. Lestat gasps at the beauty of him.

“Louis…” he breathes, and his lips part in a toothy smile. Louis sighs like the weight of the world is upon him. Hannibal thinks his sweater is hideous.

Hannibal and Will exchange looks. _What the Fuck?_ mouths Will silently from across the room at Hannibal.

Hannibal shakes his head and makes a silent shushing shape with his lips. He rolls his eyes at Lestat and makes a helpless gesture with his hand.

Will looks around the room in disbelief. He cannot understand why Hannibal has not thrown this arsenic and old lace motherfucker out his door. And now he has been joined by this morose god awful sweater wearing dank haired twink. Will did not walk two miles in the rain with a dead phone and suffer through the most horrible ride with a beer swilling truck driver for almost an hour to deal with this bullshit.

Will wastes no time stalking over to the dazed Lestat and knocks him outa the chair onto the floor with one punch. Lestat looks up at Will from the floor. Louis covers his mouth in shock. Hannibal smiles proudly.

“You’re sitting in my chair.” explains Will. Hannibal smile grows wider still.

Later, the four of them sit around the fireplace. Hannibal and Will are sipping at brandy while Lestat and Louis sip at the blood swirling in their wine glasses. Will tugs at his shirt collar and Hannibal licks at the twin punctures on his neck left by sharp and grateful fangs.


	3. Chapter 3

Part 3

Louis sits on Will’s stool in Hannibal’s kitchen watching the handsome cannibal prepare what he refers to a protein scramble.  He has watched Hannibal put away the remains of their uneaten dinner in sturdy little glass containers with matching plastic lids before anything could spoil.  Hannibal seemed very particular about his food and his car.

Lestat and Louis had ridden with Will, who had said not one word as they had followed Hannibal back to his very swank place a couple miles away.  Hannibal had explained that Will’s car was more suitable for transporting vampires who had not had a bath in a while. Will’s car smelled like wet dog and Lestat had retched out the window twice from the smell. Will did not seem to notice anything was amiss, but Louis could smell the dogs and could smell that they were clean dogs; there were just a lot of them.

Will smelled faintly of dog, but also of some fine aftershave that smelled just like Hannibal’s except with Will’s own scent mixed in and the smell was quite pleasant to Louis. Louis could also smell Hannibal’s scent very strongly all over Will, but not the other way around.  Hannibal had an incredibly distinctive scent, very earthy despite the expensive French cologne that mingled with his own musky and metallic body odor. Must be all the people he eats.

Louis is smelling that scent now as he sits motionless observing Hannibal.  He wears one of Hannibal’s sweaters loosely about his thin frame, his long hair trails down his back. The change of sweaters was the result of the compromise brokered by Hannibal, who Luis admits is rather accomplished as far as psychiatrists go. He had said as much to Hannibal which prompted Will to mutter, “You have no idea.” Hannibal had tugged on Will’s ear until he had smiled up at Hannibal.

An odd pair they were, the cannibal psychiatrist and the FBI profiler. But Louis had sensed that they were more alike than their appearances suggested if judging by the ever present darkness swirling behind Will’s stormy blue eyes.

Louis envies Will the punch that decked Lestat. He imagines how good that must have felt. Slamming Lestat against that oak tree so long ago had not been very satisfying, but this time Lestat had not seen it coming from Will and he had fallen to the floor almost like a mortal. Will’s hand had bled, apparently from another wound that hadn’t healed over yet. But he had not seemed to notice the pain.  He was too pleased with himself as he had glanced down at Lestat sprawled on the floor.

Louis thinks he would like to feel like that. Just once.

“The sun will be up soon.” Hannibal says nodding at the window.

“I know.” Says Louis, “Trust me, I will descend into the basement presently to join Lestat. And thank you for your hospitality.”

“How could I refuse such an interesting proposition?” says Hannibal ad he adds some spices to his scramble simmering nicely in the pan.

“Don’t you need to sleep?” Louis asks Hannibal.

“I will. I wanted to have this ready for Will when he gets up.”

“Will you join him, upstairs?”

“Presently…” says Hannibal and Louis sees his eyes soften a little.

After their party had moved from Hannibal’s office to his home, Will had begged off for the night fatigued beyond reason not just from his miserable truck ride after being stranded, but because of the blood loss as well.  Hannibal had fared much better. Louis was beginning to wonder if Hannibal were something more than mere mortal.  He didn’t seem entirely human all the time.

And his blood had been delicious. So heady drinking from him. Louis’ head had been swimming with the taste and smell, a pungent mixture that caused Louis to think of rotten fruit, flies and dirt, floral coppery tones that ran through his mind, like legs of thick old wine running down a crystal goblet.

After offering to provide the nourishment for his guests, Hannibal had allowed Louis, whom Hannibal viewed as the weaker of the two vampires, to drink from him while he had watched Lestat crawl on all fours across his carpet to Will.

Will had watched Lestat get closer until he finally glanced at Hannibal who nodded to him to go ahead. Will had set his jaw but had tilted his head to one side as he had seen Hannibal do for Louis and waited for Lestat.

But, where Louis had been polite, almost reluctant to suck at Hannibal’s exposed throat, Lestat harbored no such inhibition.

Within seconds Louis and Hannibal had watched a flurry of movement as Lestat relieved Will of his trousers and was poised over a pale and well-muscled thigh, fangs drawn and Will struggling beneath Lestat’s grasp.

Louis had almost fallen down into the void left by Hannibal he moved so fast. Hannibal had moved so fast for a mortal Lestat did not have time to react. Hannibal had Lestat by his curly yellow locks before you could say boo.

“Neck, please.” Hannibal had said. “The rest of him is mine. You understand that, don’t you Lestat?”

Hannibal had let his knuckles relax ever so slightly against Lestat’s head. Louis thought Lestat might attack the reckless cannibal, but Lestat remained where he was, hovering over Will’s exposed thigh.

“Lestat…I can barely stand you touching his neck.” Hannibal said in a low tone that made Louis’ ears prickle and he was sure Lestat’s ears registered his ominous tone of voice.

Lestat had understood Hannibal’s possessiveness of Will, respected it even. He could take from Will what he wanted, Hannibal too, but he did not want to. Lestat found himself desirous of Hannibal’s favor. Something about the man made Lestat want to please him, impress him, and Lestat felt admiration for him. And that was a rarity for Lestat.  Hannibal had a way of wriggling into one’s head. Louis found himself being seduced by Hannibal as well.

So, Lestat had drunk slowly from Will, eyeing Hannibal the whole time.  Will’s eyes had rolled up into his head his body shuddering in response to Lestat’s expert feeding. Hannibal had looked on quietly, but Louis could feel the resentment building, and if Louis could feel it, so could Lestat.

“That scramble,” Louis says from his perch, “is that…people in there?”

Hannibal’s lips curve up slightly. He turns off the stove and shakes the pan so the scramble is scrambled a little more.

“The sausage is homemade, yes.” He says simply

“Does Will know?”

“He does. But we…talk around it. More polite.”

“Does he know the people you eat?’

“He can figure it out, usually by the ingredients and he matches them to what gets wheeled into the lab at the F…B…I” Hannibal does that sort of smile thing again with his lips. Louis thinks Hannibal has the most fascinating face.

“I would never serve him someone he cared about, that would be rude.”

Louis actually finds himself smiling at that.

“So…he has eaten people he knows personally then. He just didn’t like them?”

“Oh yes. Has killed them with his bare hands. A gifted and skilled predator when he chooses.” There is no mistaking the swell of pride in Hannibal’s entire being as he speaks of Will. Louis can hear the affection and tenderness in his voice.

“He is your fledgling as I am Lestat’s.” Louis says.

Hannibal pauses putting the scramble in the pretty containers. “Yes.” He says after a moment. “And that is why you are so drawn to me and not to Will.”

Louis thinks on this. His green eyes go dark. _And why Lestat is drawn to Will._ Lestat clearly has designs on Will and Hannibal is VERY aware that he does. 

Louis senses the dawn approaching. Hannibal notices Louis slowly uncoil from Will’s stool, like a statue come to life. He looks out the window to see twinges of pink steal across the still black yard. Night is about to become day.

When Hannibal looks back to the stool, Louis is gone. He takes his time sealing the containers, putting them in the fridge, cleaning off the counter. Finally, he lifts the secret door in the floor and goes downstairs to his other basement. He switches on the night light that allows just enough light for him to see the two vampires lying side by side on the double mattress Hannibal put there for them.

He even put pretty pillows with fragrant sachet in them because the vampires still smelled like dry blood and garbage.  Not a bad smell yet, but they were getting a pretty ripe with it.  Hannibal will have to make sure they get showers tomorrow night when they wake up.

And brush their teeth. Hannibal doesn’t know where those teeth have been. Do vampires bathe? Hannibal cannot imagine what scrubbing dead flesh must feel like, oh wait… _yes I do. Well, what about that._

They make a cute pair lying there, one blonde one brunette both quite handsome and both quite deadly. _Fascinating_ thinks Hannibal as he walks back upstairs and turns out the light.


	4. Chapter 4

Part 4

The sun is high in the sky when Hannibal and Will finally wake up. Hannibal almost always wakes up first and does this morning. Before he even admires his own half erect cock he looks over at Will. He gingerly slides the covers down so he can see all of Will.

Will opens his eyes, grunts at Hannibal and flips to his side taking the covers with him. Hannibal yanks the blankets off and pulls Will over to him. Will resists but not really.  It’s their thing. Hannibal has him pinned to the mattress.

“Gonna be a little difficult without your hands Hannibal.” Will says.

“Only for you.” Hannibal retorts.

Will bucks up from the bed suddenly toppling Hannibal to land bedside him. Will wriggles onto his back.

He grins at Hannibal.

Hannibal easily slides on top of Will and leans into a deep kiss, deeper until Will turns his head aside to breathe. Hannibal moves his lips lower. He keeps going while Will’s breathing gets faster. Hannibal is completely focused on the taste of Will’s skin between his teeth. And then…

His total bliss out evaporates as his eyes hone in Will’s thigh. “What is that?”

Will thinks Hannibal’s tone is very accusing. He has no idea what Hannibal is referring to and he tells him so. “What is what? My dick? I don’t know what you’re looking at.”

“You have bite marks on your thigh.”

Will sits up and takes a look.  Sure ‘nuf there are tiny puncture wounds like the ones on his neck.

“Goddamit” says Will. “I didn’t let him do that.  I didn’t even feel it. When could he have…?

“While I was in the kitchen with Louis.” Hannibal remembers how fast and silent the vampires are. Lestat had only needed a few minutes.

“Hit bit you right where he tried to the first time.”

“Kind of a slap in the face, huh?” Will says. “He’s fucking with you. Reminding you who is really in charge.”

“Yes, I know. Well, his proposal was interesting.”

“Like we had a choice. I mean why make a proposition when you can have the cow for free?”

“Because he enjoys a game. He is bored. He does not realize that the more rules he makes the easier it is to manipulate them.”

“What can we do? We can’t trust him.  Hey, can he hear us right now?”

“Interesting thought.” Hannibal climbs out of bed and turns on the stereo. He shrugs at Will. Will shrugs a shoulder back.

“There isn’t anything we can do about it” says Will, “Maybe they get bored quickly.”

“Well, since the proposal involves a week of therapy, we can use that to our advantage. But, we’ll have to work together.  You will have to trust me, Will.”

“You do know how that sounds, right?” Will says.  “Can you hear yourself?”

“You can trust that when it is your time to die, that I will be the one to do it.” Hannibal strokes his head, smooth’s Will’s hair with his fingers.

“Do it? Or do me?” Will shoves Hannibal backwards onto the bed and leaps on top of him. Smiles all around. Will is so cute when he thinks he’s in control. His mistake is he still thinks the one on top is in control.

“Seriously Will.  Do you want to be a vampire?”

“I uh, see your point. OK. So what are you planning to do?”

“I have already laid the groundwork with Louis. To sow some seeds of doubt as it were. Let us see what grows this evening.”

Will knows first-hand how talented Hannibal is with psychiatry. Will wonders if Hannibal is talented enough to face off against two vampires, with a couple hundred plus years of experience. He hopes Hannibal can dish it out.

“Are you going to let me in on it?” Will asks.

“For now, it’s better that you remain unaware.”

“Why is that?” Will says, clearly annoyed. “That’s, that’s a lot of trust right there.”

“Will, trust in the fact that I much prefer you alive.” Hannibal pauses, “Louis told me vampires do not fuck.” Hannibal eyes widen a little in response to Will’s full blown eye pop.

“No shit. Really?”

Hannibal simply nods.  He couldn’t believe it either.

“Oh, well in that case, in am totally in.  Really?”

“I know, right? Hannibal says. “and they don’t eat, either.”

“Oh, that would be hell for you.” Will says. “Can’t eat or fuck. What do they do for centuries?”

“Look, Will, Lestat will know if you have an agenda. So will Louis. If I can manipulate them as part of the therapy…”

“They will never know.” finishes Will, “Unless they find out. That is possible you know.” Will says, poking Hannibal in the ribs.

“Not in a week.” Hannibal pokes him back. “Louis told me that Lestat can read people’s thoughts. He can’t seem to read mine for some reason.”

“Of course not. Not you.”

“Louis can’t read minds at all. Not his gift he said.

 “But Lestat can read mine?”

“Sorry Will. But you are empathic. You should be able to think how he thinks. See him as he really is. Keep me informed. I will adjust the therapy.”

“And I just play along with the rest.”

“Do you have a better idea?”

“Fuck…”


	5. Chapter 5

Part 5

Will drives back to Wolf Trap in Hannibal’s Bentley to check on the dogs and arrange for his Volvo to be towed to a garage. _Fuckin Vampires_ he thinks. 

He still feels a little woozy and figures it is not from blood loss. His body has recovered from that and he had a really nice breakfast this morning. Hannibal is so thoughtful and besides, he gives Will shit when he thinks Will isn’t eating right.

No. Lestat did some weird vampire thing to him, or maybe he just has some drug in his saliva. Wait, do vampires have saliva?  Will still can’t believe they don’t have sex. Then he thinks that makes sense because they are dead and dead things don’t make semen so what would be the point except to just make a lot of friction and no release.

Will shudders. He does not want to be a vampire. Now what did Hannibal tell him to pick up in Wolf  Trap?

Hannibal is trying to think of how he can poison Lestat. He figures he has to poison Louis too and this makes him sad ‘cuz Louis is actually cool. Hannibal tuts to himself. Of course Louis is not cool. He is a vampire like Lestat. He is just polite. Like Hannibal.  In that way, Louis might be more dangerous than Lestat because at least you expect evil from him.

Hannibal doesn’t want to poison either of them. Not really. He would rather have his therapy work but with his and Will’s mortal souls at stake, he has to have an alternative plan in case it doesn’t work out the way he wants. Hannibal always prepares for multiple contingencies. He is sure Lestat is pretty smart and so Hannibal must come up with multiple scenarios and consequences.

Will is also pretty smart and will likely figure out his part in this fairly soon. He won’t like it either but as he said, they don’t ha e much choice.  This is the ultimate game of chess and their opponents have a distinct advantage. Lots of advantages. One is that they are already dead.

Hannibal roots through his special fridge the one in the back kitchen. He has no fresh blood. Never does. He drains the bodies first; all those bodily fluids run right down the drain. Vampires would know animal blood from human, so Hannibal couldn’t just send Will out hunting game.  He wonders how Will is going to select a target this time.

He is on his own. No Hannibal prompting former patients to kill him this time. No setting him up this time.  No Hannibal by his side this time. Hannibal smiles to himself. At least these vampires have provided Will opportunity to hunt. And the motivation.

Later, Will slams the keys to the Bentley down on the kitchen counter. “I took it through a car wash, I hope you don’t mind. I suppose you hand wash the damned thing…”

“Usually, yes, but in this case…So, you are finished with your…errands today?”

“Yeah." Will says nodding towards the garage. ”He’s out there wrapped up like a Christmas turkey.”

Hannibal motions for Will to lead him out.  A moment later they both stand over the stiffening body of a grizzled older man with a paunch not unlike Santa Claus. Will draws in a deep breath as he stares down at the face stretched with saran wrap.

“I found that truck driver. Thanked him for the ride…” Will begins to drag him towards the walk in freezer that houses the overflow.  It is often empty, but occasionally, Hannibal needs extra freezer space for banquets and dinner parties.

Hannibal helps Will carry the body inside, lift it up on a hook.

“Oh, the sounds I’ll make come out of your pretty mouth.” Will says in a voice not quite his own as he looks into the glazed eyes of the truck driver. “So lucky to find you on a night like this…”Will grabs the jowls of the dead man and moves his head from side to side.

“So, do you feel lucky now? You dead motherfucker…” Will is gripping the man’s jaws pretty tightly. Hannibal places his hand over Will’s, gently pulls it away.

“I take it he had it coming.” Hannibal says.

“Did he ever.” Will responds with a smile.


	6. Chapter 6

Part 6

Hannibal has just finished locking the second door of the back room on the far side of his basement. This room had been Miriam’s for a while, but Hannibal had moved her to another location and now the room is Abigail’s. At least until the vampire infestation has been eradicated.

Hannibal has painted the outer door with a thin layer of residue. It is a mixture of unpleasant body fluids and corpse droppings to mask the scent of the living girl inside. Hannibal does not know what he would do if the vampires found Abigail. He decides that such a scenario simply will not happen. He has to think that or he can’t concentrate.

The vampires rest on the other side of the basement, beyond several doorways and passages.  They should not be interested in much in the basement. After all, the fresh stuff is upstairs.

Hannibal walks back up the steps to ready the guest bathroom. Those filthy vampires will take a shower if the last thing they do. And Hannibal has bought them new clothes. Trying on the new duds should keep them occupied for a while. They seemed enthralled by the tactile sensation of anything and everything they touched. The various fabrics Hannibal had selected should mesmerize them for hours.

Perhaps, Lestat might be distracted from Will for a short time. Hannibal does not like his own idea to manipulate the vampires, but he had to work with what he had and Will is the perfect bait. This means that Hannibal will have to endure Lestat’s attention to Will and even more dangerous, place Will in a most compromising position. Then again, Lestat could break their agreement anytime he wanted, but Hannibal knows the vampire gets a boner, or the vampire equivalent, in playing games. Hannibal intends to win this one.

****

Will takes a shower upstairs. He can’t scrub the grime off his body quickly enough. He flexes his right hand, still store from beating the shit outa Randall, and the cuts keep reopening because Will keeps using his hands in ways he shouldn’t. He sighs as the water runs over his head and shoulders.

If he doesn’t stop killing people for at least two weeks his hand is never going to heal.  Maybe he should learn how to hold a blade in his left hand. Hasn’t he profiled any south paws?

Will feels a cold shudder while standing in the hot shower. He feels that woozy feeling again. Can hear a voice in his head speaking softly… _where are you, Will?_

That fucking vampire is fucking with his head. Will realizes it must be dusk and the vampires are waking up in the basement.  And Lestat’s first thought is of Will. Will thinks that is not a good omen at all. He hurries to finish his shower before he finds that damned vampire waiting in the bathroom for him to step out.

Will figures that Lestat can radar in on him because he has Will’s blood in him. Then, Louis must be able to sense Hannibal the same way.  Great. Now he has two psychopaths courting him.

Will dries off and wraps his knuckles up in a clean white bandage. He can smell dinner cooking downstairs. His stomach rumbles and Will wonders what sort of gastronomic delicacy Hannibal has prepared this evening. Whatever it is, the vampires won’t be eating it. They will be watching their prey feasting on their own prey. Will smiles bitterly at the irony his life has become.

****

Lestat turns to his side and watches Louis open his eyes. Lestat loves seeing all that green in the otherwise pale stone face. Louis has never ceased to be the most beautiful creature to Lestat. But that profiler is really growing on Lestat. Damn!

He is a little older than Lestat usually goes for. Lestat always looks for the pretty ones to feed from. But he has this boyish charm that sends Lestat over the edge every time their eyes meet.  And he is so…emotional, so angry… and yet he appears so sweet. Like his Louis, this Will is deadliness wrapped in exquisite beauty. And Hannibal is like some fallen dark angel, wickedly handsome and completely at ease with his nature, like Lestat. A most dangerous mortal creature.

Both of them are refreshingly dangerous and clever.  Lestat cannot imagine Hannibal will be able to keep his end of the proposition. Curing Louis of his perpetual ennui and reinvigorating their love for each other seems a bit out of reach even for this unorthodox cannibal.  Louis is…Louis. The prospect of draining that lovely Will in front of the arrogant doctor is almost too intoxicating to ignore. And the thought of turning Will in front of the doctor is also tempting.

Lestat would not dream of giving the dark gift to Hannibal. That would be s most un-Darwinian decision. Lestat can only imagine what a powerful vampire Hannibal would be with Lestat’s blood coursing through his noble Lithuanian veins. And what an arrogant vampire he would be. Lestat sniffs at the idea. No fucking way.

Louis might be upset with a vampire Will, but maybe Louis and Will would become friendly, like Louis had with David. David had gone off on his own, and Louis had missed him for a while. Maybe this Will was a better fit, more modern, and much more dark than David ever was. Lestat would enjoy staring at the both of them, night after night…what a treat it would be to watch Will stalk and kill his prey. And Lestat KNOWS that Will would enjoy it, in ways Louis never had, or could.

Louis is staring into Lestat’s gray eyes that reflect only the metallic surroundings in the basement. He is sure he knows what Lestat is thinking about. Or rather who.

Louis knows the look Lestat is wearing right now very well. Saw the same look in Lestat’s hungry eyes as he had watched Will curled up near the fireplace, leaning against his cannibal companion and again at Hannibal’s back door as Will had slipped up the steps beside them, curls, lashes and stubble like an aphrodisiac loosed upon Lestat.

Louis can hear the two mortals upstairs talking and he can hear the sound of clothing rubbing on skin and of belt buckles becoming unclasped. He listens to the soft thud as one pins the other to the center island above his head, hears the gasping of breath and the urgent press of lips to flesh. The floorboards creak to the rough tussling and boots stamping.

Lestat hears it too. With a nasty little grin, Lestat disappears and Louis knows he already stands in the kitchen. He follows Lestat upstairs with a great sigh, but Louis is curious, too.


	7. Chapter 7

Part 7

“Not now.” Hisses Will between clenched teeth. He wriggles against Hannibal’s hips, feels Hannibal’s fingers splayed across his bare ass. His trousers are gathered at his feet, and he nearly trips over his own boots as he arches his back against Hannibal’s sturdy frame.

Hannibal chuckles lifting Will up a little so he’s bent over the center island on his toes. He slips a finger down the crack of Will’s ass and enjoys the soft hiss it draws from Will. With his free hand, he tugs on his zipper, but it gets stuck his pants are so tight.

A phone rings on the counter. It’s Will’s. He picks it up before Hannibal can jerk him away from it.

“It’s Jack.” Will gasps, “I have to answer it, he’s called twice already.”

Hannibal relents and lets Will up. Will clicks on the phone with one hand while hoisting his trousers back up with the other. He glares at Hannibal and stumbles a few feet away.

“Yeah, Jack. What is it?...I’m not giving you attitude… My voice is not…what do you want?” Will adjusts his trousers and decides to leave the button undone. He leans against the counter, eyeing Hannibal as he speaks.

“I have no updates for you Jack…well no, I’m not with him all the time…yes I do have a life…  Jack… No…can’t, not today…I have a case of anal glaucoma…”

Hannibal bites his tongue. Jack should know when to back off from Will.  Ever since Will’s stay at the BSHCI, his relationship with Jack has frayed a little. Will is a different man.

“Oh, you never heard of it?” Will is saying, “Well, it’s a clinical term for I can’t see my ass coming in there today.” Will clicks off his phone and stares at it for a couple seconds.  When it doesn’t ring again, he puts it back down on the counter.

“You are not making this any easier.” Will says to Hannibal as Hannibal’s fingers coil in his hair pulling him close.

“My dear Will, what does Uncle Jack think is going on?”

“He thinks I’m still doing my job. Lucky for you.”

“Jack does not trust either of us. He will push you eventually.” Hannibal says, nuzzling against Will’s cheek.

“I know. But he wants to believe I am still FBI. That I want justice. That I am more like him; than like you.”

“Poor Jack.” breathes Hannibal. He pulls Will close in an embrace and Will folds into the strong arms that encircle his waist.  He closes his eyes and tries to be in the moment with Hannibal.

Hannibal’s heart beats strong against Will’s chest. He can feel Will breathing him in, responding to the touch of Hannibal’s warm hand cupping his jaw thumb caressing whiskers and lips. He knows Will is giving him this moment, his focus entirely on Hannibal. It is for these moments that Hannibal has endured all the less pleasant moments that have led them here.

He grabs Will’s wrists suddenly and slams him back onto the counter. “Now where were we? We have half an hour until dinner is ready…”

Will feels his trousers being yanked down once again and he arches again against Hannibal who already has his zipper down this time. His head is yanked backward and strong fingers thread through his hair anchor themselves firmly against his scalp. Within seconds he is sucking on fingers, curled around his tongue.

Will senses Lestat.  He feels his presence as palatable as the fingers between his lips.

Hannibal feels Will go still, his pleasant wriggling stops and he doesn’t even breathe. He looks around to find Lestat staring at them, his dark eyes like beads in the artificial light of the kitchen.

“Please…” Lestat says, fangs scraping his blood red lips, “Don’t let me stop you. I enjoy watching.”

As if Lestat had to tell him that Hannibal thinks, what an arrogant little vampire he is. Then again, watching Hannibal have his way with Will is not a bad idea. Not a bad idea at all. Where is the other one? Hannibal wonders. Better if he watched too.

Hannibal removes his fingers from Will’s mouth and slips them up Will's ass instead, chuckles as Will sucks in air. He ignores Lestat leaning against the door jamb and begins preparing Will for a most primal assault.

“Don’t come until I tell you.” He whispers to Will, fingers busy curling and stretching inside him, “You know you like it when I make you work for it.”

Will grinds against him, his hands braced on either side of the counter ledge. He slips one hand between his legs, but Hannibal grabs it, holds it against Will’s thigh.

“No touching.” Hannibal thrusts another finger inside none too sweetly. “You know better, Will. I think you want me to punish you a bit…”

Will groans but presses more deeply against Hannibal, his knuckles white as he grasps the counter ledge. Soon Hannibal is pumping away and Will is moving rhythmically with each thrust. As the thrusts grow more insistent so Will’s moans become more guttural.

Lestat is mesmerized by the sheer violence of their joining. He watches, hypnotized by the stain of red that begins to bleed into Will’s bandages he grips the counter so tightly, and Hannibal allows no quarter with the young man. The young profiler’s hair hangs limp in his eyes, his shirt just as damp as it hangs half off his shoulders.

Hannibal is panting so hard Lestat can hear his heart from where he stands. They are close Lestat can tell by the way Hannibal’s face contorts into near euphoria, like he is about to sneeze the mother of all sneezes. And Will.  Will is as stiff as a board trying to stave off the release Hannibal won’t let him have.

Hannibal keeps Will about an inch away from anything that might brush against his swollen cock even as Hannibal pounds into him with abandon.  Lestat marvels at what strength he must have to hold Will in place and fuck him at the same time.

Will is no flower himself. It takes a lot of stamina to take that kind of punishment and enjoy it which Will obviously is enjoying every frantic second.

Hannibal groans loudly, shudders from head to toe, and collapses his weight onto Will’s back. Will leans onto the counter, his ribs aching and his stomach tight from holding his position for so long. He heaves one breath after another, waiting for Hannibal to allow him his release.  He holds his lower half away from the counter, his every muscle twitching in anticipation of Hannibal’s fingers around his cock.

He nearly sobs aloud when he feels the silky touch of Hannibal’s thumb across his slit. He clings to the counter as his body jerks and trembles with the rush of coming into Hannibal’s hand.

Lestat looks up to see Louis watching from the other side of the kitchen. He raises a brow at Lestat who bares his fangs and resumes his ogling of the two mortals, kissing and nuzzling in their post-coital bliss.


	8. Chapter 8

Part 8

Will sits at the dining room table, sipping at the large glass of wine Hannibal has poured. He would really like to hit the whiskey he knows Hannibal keeps in the cabinet behind him, but he knows he shouldn’t. Not with the two vampires sitting at the table, preening over their new clothes.

They do smell better, but Will can’t take much more of Lestat’s ogling or Louis’ intense fascination with the centerpiece Hannibal had brought out from a storage closet Will thinks specifically to fuck with the vampires. Maybe he dragged it out of the depths of the closet to fuck with Will. Will sighs.

He must have picked it up in Europe. The phallic imagery is so in your face that a child would pick up on it. If Will were not so edgy he might find it amusing, but given the scene in the kitchen, Will would rather not be inundated with sexual objectification at the moment.  Louis’ eyes have not left the damn thing since Hannibal set it on the table. And Lestat is already incorrigible.

Will finds himself wondering not for the first time since the two vampires have infiltrated their lives and Hannibal’s home, what their sex organs look like after centuries of disuse.  The two of them sit at the table white as marble, tiny veins visible in the light cast by the chandelier above. But after they feed, they appear almost human, their cheeks flushed with the fresh blood giving them life once again. If feeding is so arousing, so pleasurable, Will wonders where that registers exactly. Perhaps the blood invigorates their entire bodies for a little while, until the effect wears off.

Will is not curious enough to ask. He may get an answer he is not prepared to hear.  It’s bad enough Lestat can sink his fangs into Will let alone anything else.

Will retreats into his head, and the fishing trip commences uninterrupted until Hannibal enters with plates in hand, adorned with vegetables arranged beautifully as usual. The main course sits in front of them, Osso Bucco Will thinks. He likes the entrée, has eaten it before, and no longer thinks about where it came from. The onions and carrots sautéed with the juices from the meat go down so well.

“My!” Louis exclaims coming out of his daze, “What a fine table you have set. I almost wish I could enjoy it.”

Hannibal smiles at Louis, genuinely appreciating the compliment. “That’s quite something coming from a vampire I imagine. I am equally disappointed you cannot.” He purrs before snapping his napkin and taking his seat.

He salutes Will with his glass and Will joins him in clinking their glasses together before taking a gulp.

“We should make a toast.” Says Lestat, his fingers playing about the buttons made from sea shells off the coast of some exotic place Will has never heard of.

“To what?” smiles Hannibal, always the perfect host.

“To our friendship.”

“Well, at least to a satisfying partnership.” Winks Hannibal.

Will sits quietly rolling his fingers over the stem of the wineglass. He is not going to toast any such thing. He picks up his glass and drains it. Sets it down and takes to his plate with knife and fork.

Lestat leans back in his chair and lifts his dark eyes to Will. Louis looks over to Lestat and Hannibal pours Will another glass of wine.

“Well,” says Hannibal, “perhaps we can have a toast over dessert.”

“Maybe I’ll be drunk enough by then.” Will says to no one in particular.

“Maybe you’ll provide the proper beverage for the toast.” suggests Lestat.

“It is most appreciated that you allowed us our feast before taking yours.” says Hannibal.

Before Lestat can answer Will says, “He wasn’t being polite, the blood is sweeter after the mortal has fed, food nourishes the feast.”

“Quite right.” says Lestat baring his fangs from across the table. “And I intend to have my fill this evening, not the frugal repast of last night.”

“If I may,” Hannibal interjects, “I recall that you and Louis agreed to hunt before your therapy session. This meal is part of our usual evening, a meal we would be sharing whether you were here or not.”

Louis touches Lestat’s arm. “He is right, Lestat. That was the agreement.”

Lestat allows Louis’ hand to remain but he glares at Will dining across the table from him, chewing and swallowing and looking about like Lestat is not even there.  He chews slowly savoring each bite, rolling the morsels around in his mouth, dangling pieces of browned juicy flesh from his fork, eyes languid pools of blue.  He is absolutely infuriating and beautiful all at once. Lestat wants to leap across the table and rip into him where he sits.

Will knows exactly what he is doing and as he lifts his wine glass to his lips, he meets Lestat’s eyes, allows them to linger on Lestat’s face, and he smiles slightly as he slowly, very slowly licks the wine from his lips. Lestat’s eyes are huge as he follows Will’s every movement, his own lips twitch at the sight of Will’s tongue slipping over darkly stained lips.

Hannibal watches all this with amusement. Will really knows how to get to Lestat he thinks. Hannibal sees that Louis isn’t missing a thing. His large soulful eyes track Lestat’s expressions and though his face doesn’t change in any discernable way, Hannibal can feel the tension welling between the two of them.

Therapy appears to be going well. Hannibal will need to confer with Will later about his thoughts from their dinner this evening. Will has already offered some impressions, but Hannibal knows he wasn’t in any shape to analyze anything last night. Not after Lestat had fed on him, relieving Will of his senses temporarily.

Hannibal fixes his attentions on Louis. He wonders how long it will take Lestat to begin pissing on his territory, if their relationship has not deteriorated to dust. Hannibal needs to know if they remain together out of habit or if there is indeed a bond that has survived their own savaging of each other.

Louis knows Lestat enjoys being the center of attention and can allow him his entertainments at the table this evening, but Lestat is not usually so blatantly enamored of a mortal with Louis beside him. Expressing admiration of a mortal is not the same as practically ravishing him with his eyes. Louis wonders what Lestat would be doing with these two were he alone with them.

Like Lestat, Louis finds them intriguing, especially Hannibal. Louis does not doubt that handsome face with its sculpted cheekbones and watchful eyes house a mind as sharp as a steel trap and singularly dedicated to its purpose. He portrays a mask to the world that hides thoughts more dark than any human should have. A killer as savage and calculating as Lestat yet mortal, and capable of that one emotion Louis finds elusive since becoming what he has become.

He sees it in Hannibal’s eyes, in the tiny creases in his mouth, in the way his entire being seeks to bask in the light of his precious Will. Hannibal’s scent deepens each time the young profiler favors him with those distractingly deep blue eyes. 

Louis remembers Lestat looked at him that way once, long ago. But his heart has hardened over the years, grown cold with the absence of the one who had brightened his nights with laughter and joy. She of the golden hair who had saved him from wallowing in the abyss of misery Lestat had introduced him to.

Louis thinks he would like to have Lestat look at him like that again. Perhaps this cannibal psychiatrist can somehow help him and Lestat see each other with new eyes.

But not if Lestat can’t tear his own eyes away from Will. Louis can appreciate Will’s many attributes but he belongs to Hannibal. Hannibal is their host and is trying to help them. Why can’t Lestat see that?

“Lestat.” Louis says, causing everyone at the table to pause at the sound of his voice. “I need to feed.”

“So go do it, then.” Lestat quips, eyes still glued to Will.

“We agreed to hunt together. I was looking forward to it.”

Lestat turns his head to look at Louis. Louis actually smiles at Lestat, inviting him with his eyes to join him in the waiting darkness.

Louis does look mighty fine this evening in his new outfit. Hannibal has impeccable taste in clothes and found items that flatter Louis.  The clothes compliment the green of his eyes and accentuate the contours of his body.  The clothes fit him perfectly. And that fucking sweater is gone. Lestat had ripped it to shreds once Louis had pulled it off his slender frame.

Lestat had stared at Louis’ naked torso. He couldn’t remember the last time he had seen Louis without a shirt, or sweater. 

“You know,” Lestat says, “I actually want to be seen with you this evening. That is worth a toast later. To you, Doctor Lecter, for making Louis fashionable again.”

“A man should take pride in his appearance, alive or not. Louis, at the risk of embarrassing you, I must confess you are a striking man. I can only imagine how impossibly exquisite you must have appeared to Lestat all those years ago. A night like this on your plantation, your face bathed in moonlight.”

Louis blinks. Once, then twice more. The barest of creases emerge around his eyes. He thinks Hannibal is so sweet to say something like that. Will thinks Hannibal is full of shit.

Just when Will thinks the evening cannot become any more surreal Hannibal utters more ridiculous poetry shit out of his mouth.

“What did you feel when you first saw him Lestat, his flesh alive, blood pulsing, sweat from the hot Louisiana night glistening on his skin. How long did you watch him?”

Lestat licks at his lips as he gazes at Louis beside him. “As long as I could stand it.” He says. “Until I had drank enough of him in life that I wanted him for eternity.”

Will’s mouth drops open. He takes another gulp of wine. This is really too much. Will feels like his mind is going to snap any second if he listens to any more. And Hannibal is sitting there lapping it all up.

Hannibal sniffs at his wine, swirls it in the glass his eyes cast down affording the vampires a moment to gaze into each other’s eyes. He glances at Will. Will catches his eyes, raises his brows, and stabs a forkful of potato.

The vampires rise from their chairs and prepare to leave, but not before Lestat leans over Will. Will’s eyelashes flutter and his hand hold his fork perfectly still midway between plate and mouth.

“I’ll be back in time for dessert and for you.”

The two disappear into the night and Will nearly collapses in relief. His entire body visibly relaxes in front of Hannibal.  Hannibal thinks he might slip off the chair.

“No more wine for you.”

“Why not? Maybe that fucking vampire will get drunk off me.” His eyes half lidded as it is.

“Not likely and they are unpredictable enough without alcohol providing yet another variable.”

Will rolls his eyes. “Do you have an agenda for their therapy session or are you planning on winging it?”

“I never wing anything. I suspect the two of them will have some discussion while they are out. I will ask them to repeat what they discussed and help them understand what they were actually saying to each other.”

Will smiles.  He knows how that will go. Hannibal will tell them what he wants them to think they meant. He will lead them around to his way of thinking by the time their hour is up. Will wonders if they will look as dazed as he often does after a session.

“You said you were sowing seeds with Louis. What kind of seeds would those be?”

Hannibal takes a breath and begins to clear the table. “I think I recall explaining that the less you know the better. What do you make of them? What has your imagination come up with?”

“Nothing like a common enemy to bring us together.” Will says.

“I would have no one else at my side, Will.”

Will muses over his wine, watches it swirl around in the glass. He begins to describe the innermost thoughts of two hundred year old vampires. As best he can.

“Well, Hannibal,” Will begins, “I think they are more self-absorbed and vain than even you. Especially Lestat.”


	9. Chapter 9

Part 9

Louis sits beside Lestat atop a high tower overlooking Inner Harbor. They have been watching the crew of the Port Authority and the dock workers unload cargo since gorging themselves on the late night diners who populate the restaurants on every corner it seems.

“What do you make of our hosts?” Louis asks.

“I think I may not last the week.” Lestat says turning his face to the cold wind. The frigid air soothes the heat of the blood coursing through him.

“How do you mean? You would not forfeit our arrangement would you?”

“Hannibal is arrogant insufferably so. I think it would do him good to be brought down a bit.”

“And how would you bring him down, Lestat? By hurting his beloved?”

“Just a little. Wouldn’t hurt to bring Will down a little too, the little scamp. Oh, the taste of him, Louis.”

“Hmmm. Was I ever that tasty?’

“Apples and oranges.” Lestat says.

“Hannibal’s blood is like aged wine from a cask that has been around the world.” Louis murmurs.

“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?” Lestat finally turns his head to look directly at Louis.

“I suppose it means that I am looking forward to dessert. Enjoy your tasty scamp. And I shall enjoy mine.”

Louis shrugs off Lestat’s hand that had found its way to his collarbone and begins to descend from their tower. Lestat watches him go, his brow furrowed in thought.

***

Will listens to the stereo while Hannibal sits at his desk behind the closed doors of his sitting room where he is having his session with the vampires recently returned from their night on the town. He shuts off the stereo and decides to go to bed.

Fuck Lestat. He can climb the stairs and take his dessert from Will in the bed. Between the wine and the conversation with Hannibal about the vampires, Will has a headache the size of the Grand Canyon. Sleep sounds so good right now.

And the only bonus of being sucked on by a vampire is that Will is so wiped out, he doesn’t dream. He can actually sleep. A deep nightmare free sleep. Even so, it is not a trade-off Will would consider long term. He has a finite amount of blood in him.

He peels off his clothes and stands over the sink in his trunks and T-shirt to brush his teeth. Hannibal bought him night clothes but Will isn’t used to wearing full pajamas to bed. He sweats enough as it is without having flannel stick to him beneath all these freaking blankets.

The room is cool though this February night and Will dives beneath the blankets and huddles beneath, eyes closed, anticipating the wonderful feeling of dozing off. He hears footsteps on the landing and thinks he never gets a break.

Will turns over in the bed so he can see the door. He opens his eyes just enough to see who it is standing in the doorway. Aren’t vampires silent?

Guess not. It’s Lestat. Will groans and turns back over.

“Ah, what’s the matter? Not happy to see me, Will?” Instantly, Will feels the bed sink a little and Lestat is lying beside him, stretched out on his side.

“You should take your boots off.” Will says, “Hannibal will smack that smirk right off your face if you scuff up his sheets with those filthy boots.”

“Oh, I think Hannibal is a little busy right now.  Louis is having dessert with him.”

“And you’ve come upstairs for yours?” Will says.

“You don’t trust that we’ll leave at the end of the week, do you?” Lestat says.

Will pauses. He remembers that Hannibal told him Lestat can read thoughts. Will figures he is doing that right now. Will is fine with that. Lestat will be so confused he won’t know what the fuck is going on.

“I think you are playing with us, yes.” Will says.

“Everyone needs their distractions. What are your distractions, Will?”

Will doesn’t answer. He tests Lestat to see if he’ll reveal anything useful. He does.

“Lots and lots of dark thoughts in there…” Lestat touches Will’s head. “Does Hannibal know you want to kill him half the time?” the egotistical prick says.

“He thrives on it.” Will answers. That is at least a truthful response Will thinks.

“Perhaps. I think it is what you think about the other half of the time that binds him to you.”

“And what do you think I think about the other half of the time?”

“Besides worrying about what to do about the FBI, you think about fucking. Getting fucked…all over this house. Is there any room you two haven’t fucked in?”

Will considers his question. “I don’t think so.”

Lestat chuckles. He surprises himself by chuckling, at least out loud. This Will has such a dry sense of humor. He is positively delightful.

“Do you miss fucking, Lestat?” Will asks him suddenly.

“What an interesting question. Of course you would ask me that. Let me see…do I miss fucking?”

Will closes his eyes and shifts around in the bed, gets comfortable like he is about to fall asleep. This vampire is SO self-absorbed he can’t even answer a simple question without making a drama out of it.

“To be perfectly honest, I do not. And I will tell you why as you lay there feigning disinterest. Feeding is so intensely pleasurable that the experience eclipses any sexual orgasm I ever had.”

“Maybe it was so long ago you have told yourself that.” Will says from the pillow. “People lie to themselves all the time. Like I am telling myself that you are not really here.”

Lestat ignores him. “Still, I can become aroused when I am freshly fed and sated with blood. I can even get hard enough to fuck…in case you were wondering.”

Will opens one eye, wills himself to think of fishing.

“I can’t come, but I can pleasure the lucky mortal beneath me, or on top, if he prefers.” Lestat leans over Will so that his blonde locks brush against Will’s face. Will blinks the soft hair away, sits up and faces Lestat.

“If you came up here for your dessert, have it and be done with it. I am getting really cranky and you won’t like me when I’m cranky.”

“Oh, I like you just fine no matter what you are.  You know I can take you however I want and there is nothing you can do about it.”

“Except that I won’t enjoy it and with an ego like yours, you wouldn’t be satisfied unless you could watch me come.  And I can assure you…I would not.”

“I think you would” Lestat says, sliding in closer so that he can run his bejeweled fingers through Will’s hair. “Hmmm. So…soft. And you have the most beautiful face. No wonder Hannibal is so possessive. I wouldn’t let you go either.”

“More beautiful than Louis?” Will says, Hannibal’s plan dawning in the recesses of his brain. That fucking cannibal bastard is using him to bait the unresponsive Louis into fighting for his beloved Lestat. To wake him from the apathetic slumber he’s been in for the last two hundred years.

Lestat is taken aback. “Louis has nothing to do with this. We feed on beautiful people all the time.”

“What’s beautiful to you Lestat? You thought Louis was beautiful before you made him. Was he still beautiful in death as he was in life? Maybe it is life you are attracted to and why you keep looking for it.”

Lestat had been reading Will’s thoughts earlier and found him at the very least, difficult to get a fix on. He thought of too many things at once and the images were compounded by emotions so fleeting that Lestat own mind chased after them until he found himself several thoughts behind and could not make any sense out of Will’s scrambled thinking.

Will is crazy. As crazy as Hannibal, but a different kind of crazy. Yet he lays here lucid and clever and simply ravishing in his little boxers and T-shirt. Lestat restrains himself from tearing into him.

“Louis is a beautiful vampire.” He insists, licking his lips as he looms ever closer to Will.

“You couldn’t bear to watch him grow old so you made him like you. But you miss him as he was, alive.” Will says clutching the blankets and letting his eyes go wide knowing that Lestat enjoys the sense of power Will’s retreat elicits.

“You didn’t know him, before. He was suicidal, despondent, almost mad with grief. I gave him the gift of immortality.”

“Yeah, and all he has to do is cause grief in others to maintain it. I’m sure that doesn’t affect him at all now that he is a powerful vampire.”

“You think you understand him. You don’t.”

“I think I do. But, what I think doesn’t matter. What you think doesn’t matter. What does Louis think?”

“Louis’ heart is as dead as mine. It doesn’t beat, it doesn’t pump blood, it is a useless organ like all the rest.”

“Then how do you feel, Lestat? Tell me when you are apart from him that you don’t feel loneliness like an ache in your chest. Where in your body do you feel?”

Will thinks he may struck a nerve or what passes for a nerve in a vampire. Lestat rests motionless beside him staring into Will’s face. Will inches back in the bed. Lestat doesn’t look very human at the moment.

“I think we’ve had enough talk for the evening. Don’t want you to get cranky.” Lestat says grabbing a handful of Will’s hair.

Will instinctively pulls back and feels the mistake immediately. Lestat jerks his head backward and leans in to Will’s bared throat lips peeled back so his fangs are exposed to the gum.

He sinks his teeth into Will’s flesh, avoiding the jugular and begins to suck. Will feels his body grow limp. But Lestat has other plans this evening.

Lestat pulls back, sits up and watches Will while he recovers as Lestat swoons with pleasure from Will’s tasty salty blood. Damn he tastes so good! Lestat intends to mark Will where Hannibal has supreme jurisdiction. But not for long Lestat thinks. Hannibal will lose his mind upon seeing his precious Will ravaged by Lestat’s dead dick. Then he will have every reason to suck that fucking cannibal dry, so dry Lestat won’t have to feed for a week. And Will will be his, to do with as he pleases.

Lestat helps Will turn over onto his stomach, so that he lays partly beneath Lestat a little to the side. Lestat does not want him flat on the bed, at least not yet.

Will feels his body being caressed and licked. He feels his T being tugged at and hears the shredding of fabric as the cool air touches his naked skin. His boxers go next and cool air tingles all over him. He next feels the drag of wet tongue between his legs and he struggles to turn his head in his stupor so that he can see.

“Hannibal?” Will says squinting in the dim light.

“No…guess again.”

Will tries to push himself up and away from Lestat but he hasn’t recovered from the feeding yet. He feels woozy and his body seems to move in slow motion. Well, most of his body. He feels his cock bouncing against his thigh and he grinds his hips into the mattress. Damn it. That fucking vampire has given him a hard on.

Lestat moves his tongue between Will’s legs, climbing higher with every lick making slick slightly pink trails all over Will’s skin. Lestat glances at Will’s face. It is contorted in pleasure, lips parted eyes closed so that his lashes lay long against the profile of his nose.  Lestat breathes in the scent of him. Detects the musky scent of the doctor on the sheets, the cologne that lingers, that wafts gently from between Will’s legs and belly and ass.

Lestat cannot wait to obliterate that scent with his own. He pulls down his zipper and takes out his own cock. Shit. It’s still kind of soft. Lestat is out of practice. He needs a little help. Some visual aids and a little more blood. He sinks his teeth into Will’s upper thigh where it meets the curve of his ass.


	10. Chapter 10

Part 10

Louis sits next to Hannibal on the carpet in front of the crackling fireplace. His eyes move about the sitting room as he waits for Hannibal to come around. His eyes alight on the harpsichord. He gets up and walks over to it, sits down, and begins to play.

 _Who is playing my harpsichord?_ Hannibal wonders as he begins to stir from his stupor. It must be Louis. Hannibal shakes his head remembers where he is.  He struggles to stay in the moment. Louis must have indulged himself this evening. Hannibal had not been affected like this before.

“You play very well.” Hannibal says to Louis. “Bach?”

“Corelli.” Louis answers him. “I like the Italian composers best.”

“Ah, of course. I should have recognized it. I feel…a little dazed. Did you do something different this time?”

“Hmmmm” Louis hums along with the melody. “Lestat suggested I take my time with you, savor the taste and appease my blood lust.”

“I see.” Hannibal rubs at his neck. He seems whole everywhere else. Apparently Louis drank from his throat and nowhere else. His thoughts turn to Will. Lestat wanted Louis engaged elsewhere so he could have Will without interruption.  This is the moment Hannibal has been waiting for. He closes his eyes as he listens to Louis’ playing.

“Louis, where is Lestat?”

“Upstairs. With Will.”

“How long has he been up there? With Will…”

The music stops. Louis lifts his eyes toward the doorway, and beyond to where the stairs lead to the second floor. Hannibal can tell that Louis is listening carefully to all the noises in the house. Hannibal can’t hear anything, but he’s sure Louis can.

Louis’ fingers scape against the keys of the harpsichord. Hannibal cringes hoping his claw like nails haven’t ruined the enamel.

“What do you hear, Louis?”

“I hear the sounds of surrender, a counterpoint to the imminent blade of conquest. I hear Lestat choking on blood coursing through sweet and tender flesh.”

“That’s not what I want to hear. Do you want to hear it, Louis?”

“If Lestat wants your Will, I cannot stop him and neither can you, though you are welcome to try.”

Louis plucks a sad note from the harpsichord. His blood red lips twist in agony at the thought.

“I know I cannot stop him, but you can.”

“I have no power over Lestat. I never have.”

“Oh, Louis. You have all the power, you always have.”

“What?” Louis’ slender fingers hover over the black keys, he stares at Hannibal.

Hannibal pushes himself off the floor with a little difficulty. He sways a little as he makes his way to Louis seated on the bench. He plunks down next to him and strokes Louis’ hair, cups his jaw as he does with Will.

“Do you think I control Will?”

“It would seem so.”

“Hmmm.” Hannibal hums as he continues to stroke Louis’ long brown locks. “I do not. But Will believes I do. He believes he grabs moments of dominance and this satisfies him. In truth, he has me wrapped right here.”

Hannibal holds up his pinky finger. Louis stares at it and then looks questioningly into Hannibal’s dark eyes.

“I whisper and I persuade, but he is always in control. I am his as much as he is mine. Will thinks he is in control only when he assumes the dominant position in our bed, but he is in control no matter what position he is in.”

Louis considers this. “And outside of the bedroom?”

“The only advantage I have over him is that I am aware of this dynamic and he is not.” Hannibal stops his petting of Louis and inhales slowly keeping Louis in his gaze. He exhales slowly before he speaks.

“I would wager that you could bend Lestat to your will with mere words, Louis.”

Hannibal allows Louis to think a moment before he delivers his last morsel of persuasion.  “I did not choose Will because I thought I could control him. Quite the opposite. I chose him because I knew I could not. He is the only one ever to be worthy of my friendship.”

Louis is quiet. Hannibal makes him think about Lestat in ways he has never considered before. He makes Louis consider himself in ways he has never guessed. Is he so loved and valued by Lestat as Will seems to be by Hannibal?

“You Have only to decide what you want, Louis. Lestat will give in, obey, and bow to your wishes to keep you. Do not doubt the power you have over him.”

Hannibal thinks Louis better make his mind up quick. If Lestat has gone too far, if he has penetrated Will with anything but his fangs, there will be blood and Hannibal will find some kind of recipe for vampires if it is the last thing he ever does. Shit. His bones have to be good for something.

Louis is suddenly gone. Hannibal sits alone at his harpsichord. He shakes himself out of his dazed light-headed state and makes for the stairs.


	11. Chapter 11

Part 11

Lestat tears his fangs from Will’s tender inner thigh. He has drunk from him slowly, a tiny bit at a time so that Will is in a state similar to intoxication. This makes him open to suggestion and wonderfully bereft of inhibition. Lestat doesn’t want him passed out. He wants Will to remember.

He wants Will to remember exactly how Lestat caused him to scream with pleasure, how Lestat caused him to squirm with delight beneath the touch of strong preternatural fingers in his hair and the feel of his preternatural cock up his ass.

Lestat has been sliding his cock over Will’s lips wet with drool and saliva as he rests comfortably on his side, jaw slack and eyes half lidded, his mind comprehending but his body unable to resist. Lestat is quite hard now. His cock swells with Will’s own blood inside it.

Lestat is SO PROUD of himself he can’t stand it. He slides down the length of Will’s body, the feel of his warm skin, the ripple of muscle beneath, and ah…those lovely hip bones. Lestat pauses to kiss each side.

“Lestat!”

Lestat turns to the sound of Louis’ voice from the doorway. Lestat does not need this right now. Louis will spoil all his fun what with his humanity and self -loathing…

“What? What is it, Louis. Your timing SUCKS!” Lestat breathes. He runs his fingers over Will’s droopy lips and begins to slick up his cock. He shoves Will gently into a better position.

“Touch him again and I will go where you will never find me.” Louis says.

“Oh? Go then. I’ll not be troubled by your interference any longer.” Lestat says, thinking how Louis has threatened leaving him so many times only to find his way back again.

“If all I am to you is interference then I will gladly go. But think on it and be sure Lestat. You know this life holds no meaning for me and I would willingly retreat into the earth and sleep a millennia were it not for you.” Louis pauses, considers Lestat kneeling on the bed, knees braced against the woozy Will’s thighs, hands around his cock and staring at Louis with intense concentration.

“What are you saying Louis? Get to the point.”

“I am giving you a choice Lestat. I am leaving this place, this house. I am leaving Hannibal and Will to their own life whatever that may be.”

“Louis! We could have so much more fun with them. What a happy coincidence we found these mortals who are so much like ourselves.”

“I am not a part of their world, Lestat, and neither are you. You belong to me. And I am leaving.”

Hannibal pads quietly down the hallway still gripping the walls he is so unsteady. Damn! Louis must have drunk a lot. Maybe that’s why he feels like he can be all bad ass with Lestat. Not that Hannibal didn’t give him a leg up in that department.

Hannibal peeks around the corner.  He sees Will sprawled beneath Lestat and his blood fairly boils in his brain. He forces himself to breathe. Lestat has not yet breached the line Hannibal drew for him, but he is about to.

“What’s in it for me if I leave with you Louis? More depressing self-talk? More agonizing over the lesser of two evils? What are you offering Louis?”

“What has been in front of you all along.”

“And what is that?”

“A partner worthy of your friendship.” Louis says.

In a nano-second Louis topples Lestat from his perch over Will and Louis sinks his teeth into Will’s throat, drawing blood from him so thick he spills it over Will’s neck and the pillow cases. Hannibal shudders reminding himself that it will all have to go through a cold water delicate cycle to get the stains out.

Louis brings his head up abruptly, blood dripping from mouth to chest. “What is yours is mine, Lestat.” Louis gets up from the bed, lunges at the dumbfounded yet strangely aroused Lestat.

Louis slams Lestat against the wall, just like he did all those years ago in the moonlit grounds of the plantation, the old oak trembling with the impact. Lestat does not laugh at Louis this time. Instead he draws him close and kisses him deeply.

Louis holds him there as his dark eyes search Lestat’s. He looks for any sign that Lestat is mocking him. Lestat pulls back from Louis’ mouth, a slow grin spreads across his brat face.

Hannibal is holding his breath. He glances at Will, prone on the bed his head probably spinning as he tries to make sense of what is going on. Hannibal would like to join him on the bed but he doesn’t want to disturb this moment between the vampires.

Lestat presses his forehead against Louis’. “It only took you two hundred years to catch on, Louis. Only two hundred years.” Lestat wriggles from Louis’ grasp. He walks over to the window and opens it wide.

“C’mon, Louis. Let’s go.”

“Where?” Louis asks, turning slowly toward the open window so the sharp wind ruffles his mane of brown hair.

“Does it matter, Louis?” Lestat holds out his hand.

Hannibal blinks from the wind stinging his eyes. When he looks again to the window, they are gone. Hannibal’s entire body quakes with relief. He practically crawls to his bed and climbs in beside Will. He doesn’t even bother to close the window. His mongoose is his again and that is all that really matters.

As Hannibal pulls the blankets around them, Will comes around and starts to sit up straight.

“Are they…gone?” he asks, his eyes scan the room.

“Yes. Finally. That…was close.” Hannibal presses closer to Will, pulls him into an embrace.

Will feels how tightly Hannibal holds him, uncharacteristically close. Hannibal is taking in great breaths, inhaling his hair, his skin, and he feels Hannibal’s warm tongue on his neck, cleansing the wounds that sting there.

Will lay in Hannibal’s arms recalling the bits he can remember. He remembers quite a lot. He remembers all that Louis said. Every word. He turns to Hannibal.

“What did you say to Louis, Hannibal?”

“Nothing you need to know or worry about, my dearest Will. Nothing at all.”


End file.
